Ditched
by majorcharacterdeath
Summary: A titanium hand pressed down with incredible force over his own, attempting to staunch the bleeding. Tony's other hand cupped Steve's face, slapping his cheek vehemently and yelling. He then moved on to Steve's shoulder, shaking it violently. "Wake up! Goddamn it, Rogers, wake up!" hurt!Steve and mild hurt!Tony. Written as gen but can be interpreted as you please.


Ditched

A few months had passed since the New York Incident, and yeah, you could say the Avengers had been busy. Soon after taking Loki back to Asgard, Thor returned to Earth to help out his superfriends, who were neck-deep in various superproblems. There had been no break in-between closing the portal and the next crisis.

Today's battle was against a mass of huge cyborgs, or something like that. Frankly, Tony Stark couldn't care less. He hadn't slept in about a week, and it was starting to wear him down. He looked forward to ending this fight and going to crash somewhere, the exact location of which w-

A spiked metal club whipped into Tony's stomach, and he found himself soaring through the air. His short flight came to an abrupt halt as his back intercepted a building. Tony was thankful for the Iron Man suit, otherwise he suspected his spine would be cracked in two right now. Even so, his head was spinning and things were moving frame by frame. He groaned as he pushed himself up, stopping for a moment when the pain in his back flashed through his body like an electrocution. Teeth clenched to hold back a scream or some other humiliating noise, Tony stood as straight as his worn down body would allow him.

Steve threw the shield with his whole body, his stance measured and practiced as he followed through with the swing of his arm. The shield whizzed through the air and cleanly sliced off the head of a cyborg. It slammed into a building and came bounding back to him, all in less than a few seconds. The Captain turned to deal with the problems behind him, but was met with a metal punch to the jaw. His body twisted through the air as he was thrust back from the momentum. He hit the pavement with a thunderous crash, his cowl sliding off as he skidded across the street. He was stopped by another fist slamming into his stomach, pushing him deep within the concrete with the force of a sixteen-wheeler.

Steve gasped for air, his lungs feeling deflated and his chest caving in. He could feel the broken ribs already moving back into their natural places, but it still hurt like hell. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see a huge piece of debris being flung at him. He barely had time to lift his shield as- what, a block of skyscraper?- sought to crush him. It collided with the shield, sending painful vibrations down Steve's arms, and he cried out. The weight on top of him was suffocating. Steve sucked in air and braced himself against the ground, using all his strength to heft the giant concrete boulder off of him. It crashed onto the ground next to him, overhanging the ditch his body had forged a bit. An incredible, searing pain blossomed between Steve's ribs, and his eyes felt like they were going to burst from the agony. He wasn't even able to scream; all that left him was a gasp and a groan as he searched for the source of the pain. Kneeling over him was one of the cyborgs, its hand pushing a knife into his stomach. With a smile, the cyborg pulled the knife towards itself, ripping Steve's body down the middle. He shivered, no longer feeling the pain. Just cold. Cold like the water he crash-landed that plane in 70 years ago. The knife jerked out of his body, and Steve felt himself growing lethargic. His arms felt like they were made of stone. He lifted a hand and settled it on his abdomen in an attempt to curb the bleeding. Warm blood pulsed between his fingers, his hand not nearly enough to cover such a large wound.

Steve knew that it was pointless; no one could survive an injury like that. _Get out of the ditch. _His only hope now was to somehow draw attention to himself, and that couldn't happen if he was hidden beneath rubble and debris. He lifted a hand, grabbed the edge of the small ditch. He was about to pull himself-

Steve's body seized up, becoming rigid. He panicked; he couldn't move. His lungs slowed down, gathering less and less air for his body to sustain him with. His heart seemed to be failing too; the beats became erratic until, finally, undetectable. Steve's eyes froze, staring up at a sky that was slowly turning orange.

As soon as the black dots had cleared from his vision, Tony saw the cyborg approaching him slowly with a jagged dagger and a vicious smile. Without thought, Tony's arm raised and his palm blast began charging. In seconds, the cyborg was face-up on the ground, a perfectly round hole the size of Tony's fist in his chest. Tony's arm sagged to his side and he groaned again, stepping over the cyborg's body.

The battle had to be over soon; they'd been fighting since before dawn, and now Tony could see the sun beginning to set behind the destroyed buildings and the fires scattered across New York. One foot in front of the other, Tony stepped and tripped over rubble and destroyed cyborgs. A roar echoed from somewhere on the other side of the city, and Tony knew that Bruce taking care of things over there. _Where the hell is everyone else? _A thought slowly surfaced through his muddy brain- and at this point Tony was almost sure he was concussed- that all the Avengers had been fitted with Bluetooth ear devices so that they could contact each other. Except the Hulk, of course. "How's everyone holding up?" Tony inquired aloud, knowing JARVIS would send it through the com. He also knew how tired he sounded, and it stressed him out.

It took about a minute for anyone to reply, and in that time Tony had managed to stumble over a particularly large piece of building, and had just stayed on the ground, back leaned against it and legs lying uselessly straight out in front of him. "The battle draws to a close, and shall be complete before the setting of the sun." Thor's voice in Tony's ear lifted a huge weight that Tony didn't know he was carrying. He was relieved to know that _someone_ had survived, other than Bruce, whom he had not heard for some time now.

Tony's head jerked up and his ears strained to understand the noise in his ear. "-ark? Stark? Are you there? You with us, Tony?" The voice belonged to Natasha who, besides her attempts to disguise it, sounded worried. "Uh, yeah. Yeah, I'm here. Sorry." "I think you passed out, Stark. You doing alright?" "Yeah, I'm good. Just got tossed around a bit by one of those trash cans. How is everyone?"

There was a pause, and then: "I'm over on 43rd with Clint, Thor is somewhere on 50th, and as far as I know, Bruce is around the Chelsea District." She stopped talking, and the silence was deafening. Even through his concussed mind, Tony noticed that Natasha was missing someone. "Where's Steve?"

Natasha didn't answer.

"Natasha, where's Steve?" Tony could feel his heart in his throat, could hear the beating like a drum in his ears.

"I don't know. No one has seen him."

Tony didn't even know how, but he was on his feet and running through debris, eyes searching the ground desperately. It hit him that he didn't even consider that Steve was okay; he had just assumed he was lying on the ground somewhere, unresponsive. Their relationship had been strained when the Avengers had first assembled, but months of constant battle and necessary teamwork had found them becoming friends, or at least acquaintances. They still butted heads over almost everything, but Tony knew he could trust Steve to have his back, under any and all circumstances.

There. A red gloved hand resting limply on a piece of wreckage from a nearby skyscraper. Tony tore his way towards it, unable to see anything but the red glove covered in dirt and dust. He noticed he had been talking, repeating, "I found him, I found him, he's here, I found him," into the com. He didn't know if anyone was replying, for all he could hear was the whoosh of wind and the muted sound of his own voice. He assumed he was giving the other Avengers his location, but right now his mind and his mouth weren't connected.

He reached the hand and lurched to his knees, his body turning itself off due to exhaustion. His mind was still racing though, as his eyes took in the ditch Steve had been lying in, followed by his hand and continued down to the arm it was attached to, and then the torso, and-

Oh, god.

Between Steve's ribs ran a long, deep gash, down to a bit above his belt. It had been bleeding profusely, but seemed to be tapering off now. The red-white-and-blue striped uniform was now just red and dark purple, stained from blood both fresh and dried. The Captain's hand had been pressed against it to try and stop the flow, but now is just rested weakly over it. Tony looked at Steve's face and immediately wished he hadn't. His skin was pale and almost green, no hint of blood rushing through his skin. Dark circles ran around his eyes, deep and purple. His mouth was slack, white teeth a sharp contrast from the soot and blood staining his face.

And then, there were Steve's eyes. His open eyes, not looking at anything, not focused, just staring. Blue as ever before, but lifeless.

Tony wasn't sure how, but he found himself in that ditch with Steve, one hand applying pressure to his stomach wound and the other slapping Steve's face in an attempt to wake him.

Steve did not lose consciousness. He lay there, bleeding out like an idiot and unable to do anything about it. Even though he could not move, he could feel the life leaving his body along with his blood. The gash in his stomach was dangerous, and he certainly would have been dead already if not for the serum. However, that didn't mean he was out of the woods. Just because it was harder to kill him did not mean that he could not die.

Static erupted in the com in Steve's ear. He could hear Tony asking about the whereabouts of the group, exhaustion layering his voice. He heard Natasha's pause, and Tony's concern. Tony stopped replying for a few minutes, and Natasha grew uneasy. Finally, Tony blearily stumbled back into consciousness. He didn't sound like he was doing so well. _Look who's talking. _Steve almost chuckled, and probably would have if not for the paralysis. Here he was, dying in a ditch, worrying about someone else.

He tuned back into the com and realized that they were talking about him.

"_I found him, I found him, he's here, I found him. He's over on 42__nd__ by Grand Central and-"_

Tony's voice cut off as he rushed into Steve's field of vision. He stopped cold, staring down at Steve in that ditch. _Yes, here I am. _Steve couldn't discern what Tony was thinking, since the mask covered his face. The rest of the Avengers were screaming into the com, cursing Tony and demanding to know what was wrong with Steve.

Tony sank to his knees. Steve could hear his heavy breathing through the helmet, hitching and gasping from pain and shock. Suddenly, Tony sprang into action, launching himself into the ditch and straddling Steve. He could have laughed; the two men could barely shake hands, and now Tony was ridiculously throwing himself on top of him. A titanium hand pressed down with incredible force over his own, attempting to staunch the bleeding. Tony's other hand cupped Steve's face, slapping his cheek vehemently and yelling.

"_Wake up! Goddamn it, Rogers, wake up! You can't do this to us. Not now. Come on. Steve… Steve you can't be, don't be…."_

Tony's hand stopped slapping, stopped applying pressure to Steve's stomach. _No no no, Tony, don't do that. I can't do it myself, I'm bleeding out here. _The Iron Man rested back on his heels, still straddling Steve's cold body.

"_He's dead. Steve's dead. Oh, god, he's dead. He's dead."_

Tony was frantically rambling into the com, unaware that he was doing such. He suddenly tore the helmet off of his head as Natasha yelled that she was on her way with the rest of the team.

The man's eyes searched Steve's, looking haunted and traumatized. Tears ran down his cheeks, his mouth open in disbelief.

"_Steve. Don't do this to me."_

Steve wanted to apologize. He couldn't control whatever was happening to him.

_I'm sorry, Tony._

Sound rushed back into Tony's world, and he realized he had been speaking again. "He's dead, he's dead, oh god," his mouth was saying without his permission.

"We're almost there Tony," Natasha yelled through the com, this time unable to contain the wild emotion in her voice.

Tony ripped off his helmet and launched it somewhere behind him, feeling like he was suffocating him. Tears were running down his cheeks, unwarranted and unwelcome. He took to shaking Steve's shoulder, but it was completely useless. Tony knew it was useless. Steve Rogers was dead, he was dead and there wasn't shit he could do about it. He sat back on his heels, removing his hand from Steve's wound. What was the point? A yell erupted from Tony's throat, ripping from his tongue and cursing the world for its unfairness. Once it was released, his whole body slouched, all the energy gone.

The hand that was suddenly on his shoulder shocked him, and he leapt up to deal with whatever was going to fuck with him at this moment. His eyes met with the red and immensely sad eyes of Bruce Banner, whose entire body looked to be weighed down with sorrow. He wore his emotions like Atlas wore the world, a burden upon his soul. Behind him were the rest of the Avengers, none of them looking like they were in any better shape. Clint was off in the back, looking down at the ground. Natasha stood, brave as ever, but her stance was betrayed by the dead look in her eyes. Thor looked almost confused, as well as emotionally wounded beyond belief. Tony couldn't imagine what he looked like to them right now.

"Let me take a look at him," Bruce said quietly, gently brushing past Tony, placing the hand on his shoulder once more. He looked behind him into the ditch that held their fallen Captain, and Tony could feel the intense emotions rolling off of the doctor even through the Iron Man suit. Bruce stepped down next to Steve and put a hand to his neck, staring intently into his eyes. His face momentarily flickered; Tony knew because he had been watching intently. Bruce dropped his ear to in front of Steve's mouth and held up a hand to the Avengers, his eyes searching off into space as he listened for breath.

Steve desperately tried to breathe, to get his heart pumping as Bruce leaned over him. _I'm alive, I'm alive Bruce! _He somehow managed the tiniest of gasps, and felt the doctor tense above him. His ear pressed closer the Steve's mouth, and again he choked out a sign of life. Bruce drew back, looking astonished and, frankly, confused.

With a gasp, Bruce looked down at Steve and then back at the rest of the team.

"He's breathing! Just barely, but it's there! We need to get him out of here; he doesn't have long!"

Tony felt the world melt around him. Steve was alive? In _that _condition? He stared down at Bruce in disbelief.

"What part of 'we need to hurry' don't you understand? We can still save him! Move!"

Thor was suddenly rushing past Tony, knocking him aside unintentionally as he went. With ease, he reached down into the ditch and pulled the limp Steve from his place among the rubble.

"Bruce? What-,"

"Tony, he's breathing, he has a pulse. I don't know how, I'm not a medical doctor, but he's alive. Go with Thor, you're the only other one that can fly. Nat, Clint and I will get a cab. Go!"

The rockets of the Iron Man suit fired up, and Tony was in the air above Thor. From his position, he could clearly see Steve hanging limply in Thor's arms like a broken toy. Tony's eyes met Steve's, and he realized that maybe Steve could see him, was registering everything that was happening.

"It's gonna be alright, Rogers. You hear me?"

Tony didn't get a response; he wasn't expecting one.

The cold air that whipped Steve's face as Thor rushed him to the helicarrier wasn't unwelcome. He needed to feel something other than the pain in his stomach that was slowly crescendoing in intensity. He still wasn't sure that he wasn't about to die.

Tony flew above him, helmet forgotten back at the ditch. They met eyes; or, rather, Tony met his eyes.

"_It's gonna be alright, Rogers. You hear me?"_

_Yeah, I hear you Stark. _

The Avengers waited impatiently outside of the medical bay of the helicarrier. It had been hours, maybe even days, but none of them were keeping track. Tony had been brought into the ER with a severe concussion, a few broken ribs, and a brutally bruised spine. He'd slept through most of the hospital stuff, passing out soon after watching Steve being rushed into the ICU. Things were fuzzy after that. Currently, he sat in a wheelchair in the waiting room with his teammates. He had refused to stay in the hospital bed, but had been unable to finagle himself out of the wheelchair.

"Tony?"

His eyes snapped away from the crack in the wall he'd been staring at and met the eyes of Banner. He didn't look to be in much better condition than Tony; dark circles laced his eyes, and his tousled hair served to make him look completely exhausted.

"Are you doing alright? You've been pretty quiet."

Tony noticed that the other Avengers were looking at him now. "Yeah, of course. I… Yeah." He was unable to come up with anything witty. Truth be told, this whole ordeal had seriously freaked him out. He couldn't get the image of Steve's dead eyes or that horrific knife wound out of his mind. There was no way he wasn't-

"Doctor Banner?"

A man in a medical coat walked through the medbay doors, and the Avengers were alert at once.

"Yes, doctor?"

"Captain Rogers is in mostly stable condition now. He's not awake still, and we don't predict that he will be for a while."

"What happened to him?" Tony found himself blurting out.

"Well, this type of weapon is far beyond us, but… It appears as though the dagger that dealt Captain Rogers such a severe blow was poisonous, some kind of paralytic agent. It slowed his heart rate to nearly untraceable levels. Also…" the doctor tapered off, looking hesitant.

"What?" Nat questioned forcefully.

The doctor sighed. "Captain Rogers' heart stopped twice on the table. We had to try to clean his wound, and it seemed his body just couldn't take it. He lost an incredible amount of blood, an amount that would have killed anyone else three times over."

The Avengers were silent, realizing how close they had come to losing one of their own.

"Can we visit him?" asked Bruce.

"You may, but he is not awake. Do not try to wake him; the man needs rest desperately."

The team rushed around the doctor, Bruce nodding him a quick _thank you_ as he passed. In moments they stood crowded around the door to Steve's room. The consistent beeping sound was a relief for Tony; it signaled a heartbeat that he was sure had long stopped. Even so, looking at Steve sent a chill down Tony's injured spine. The dark circles remained under the captain's eyes, and his skin was still much too pale. Various cuts and bruised decorated his face, and his torso was wrapped with tight bandages from the armpits down. A blanket covered his legs.

Tony sucked in a breath. The supersoldier was alive, but just barely. He wheeled himself into the room, stopping by Steve's head.

"You complete moron. What were you thinking? You got us all worked up over a paper cut? Stupid," Tony quietly berated the sleeping man. He watched Steve's chest rise and fall, the sight relaxing his shoulders and calming his racing heart. Captain America would be just fine.

A week later, Tony was resting in the chair next to Steve's bed. The rest of the Avengers were off, well, Tony didn't know where. He hadn't slept in a week, and looked forward to crashing, where exactly he-

"Tony."

Stark's head snapped up from its place on his chin and he met Steve's eyes. Eyes that were not dead, although red-rimmed and still very tired-looking.

Tony clamored to scoot the chair closer to the hospital bed. "Hey, Steve. Didn't feel like sleeping for another 70 years I take it?"

Steve smirked and closed his eyes, releasing a deep sigh.

"How long have I been here?"

"About a week. You're a mess. It took like, 300 stitches to put your stomach back together. Nice work."

"Tony, I heard everything you said."

"What?"

"I wasn't unconscious. Or dead," Steve breathed, locking eyes with Tony.

"Oh."

The room was silent for a moment, and then;

"Thanks Tony. Believe it or not, you saved my life. Jerk."

Tony smiled, and then puffed out his chest and put his game face on. "Of course I did, I'm Iron Man."

Steve chuckled, then rolled his head back to face the ceiling and promptly returned to recovering, slipping into unconsciousness.

Subconsciously, Tony reached out and patted Steve's hand.

"You're gonna be fine, Rogers. Just fine."


End file.
